


dust in humanity's machine

by Aslee



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Big Dick Shaming, Blowjobs, Bottom Richie Tozier, Cheating, Dom/sub Undertones, Eddie Kaspbrak's Sexual Awakening, Eddie and I have both done the Research, Eddie discovers the joys of being a Good Dom, Emotional Edgeplay, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Guilt, Happy Ending, Intercrural Sex, Just the Tip, M/M, Name-Calling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, Richie Tozier Has a Big Dick, Richie Tozier's Homewrecking Turtleneck, Richie has it but doesn't know it so it's not discussed but we do see the effects, Rimming, Sexual Dysfunction, Shaving your legs as an act of love, Specifically that Richie has trouble getting a full erection because his dick is just THAT big, The cheating is between Eddie/Myra, They're broken up but still legally married, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but in a consensual sexy way, post-coital dysphoria
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aslee/pseuds/Aslee
Summary: Eddie is determined that, until his divorce goes through, things between him and Richie will be 100% platonic.Even though they're in love. And living together. And spend every night cuddling on the couch.It'll be fine.Or:"No take-backs," Richie said, grinning down at Eddie. "You said you'd be mine, and now you have to do it." Richie gentled, his smile a little more sincere. "I'm serious, Eds. I'll wait, if that's what it takes. You can be my man, off to war in the heathen lands of New York City. I'll walk the beach and yearn for you every night.""You can leave a candle in the window," Eddie suggested, and Richie held him a little closer."Honestly, though, it'll be fine. Besides, how long can a divorce take?"
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 82
Kudos: 416





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [switchtozier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/switchtozier/gifts), [crowtesque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowtesque/gifts).



> i hope y'all like porn 
> 
> title once again from mr. wilde, my dude, this time actually in context: "And all, but Lust, is turned to dust In Humanity's machine." it seemed fitting, considering that not even maturin himself could stop the force of two 40 yr old men wanting to bone down. 
> 
> anyway, i think people lying to themselves and trying (and failing) to fight their own horniness is sexy, so here's this: a cheating fic without any actual cheating. all the guilt and none of the unfortunate implications of reddie's future.if you, like me, don't believe that eddie is a cheater if he's already left myra, please bear with me: all will be made clear the second eddie himself realizes it. ;) 
> 
> this is my first ever porn fic, so if you have any suggestions on how i can improve as it continues, i'd love that!!
> 
> also shoutout to @princesDameron on twitter for letting me use her Homewrecking Sweater on Rich. You should check out her art of him in it; It's a religious experience.

Eddie stopped Richie with a hand on his chest, their lips hovering centimeters apart.

"I'm sorry," he began, and Richie flinched back like the words were a physical blow. Eddie could see the emotions flashing through Richie's eyes, confusion, then pain, then horror. It distracted him, for a moment, the memory of how fast Richie's brain had always worked, processing his own thoughts faster than Eddie ever could. But then Richie was taking steps back, and although Eddie couldn't give Richie what he wanted (yet), Eddie didn't want Richie anywhere but next to him.

He grabbed for Richie's wrist as Richie mumbled out, "God, Eds, I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was doing--"

"No!" Eddie's grip on Richie was vice-like, and he stepped forward until their chests were almost pressed together again. "That's not what I meant, Rich. I want to, I promise you. I want it so bad." Richie looked down at Eddie, who wondered if his eyes were really that wide and scared, or if his glasses were still playing tricks after all these years. "But I'm married, Rich."

Richie blanched at the reminder, pulling at Eddie's hold on him. "Yeah, I know. Fuck, I'm so sorry, Eds. I wasn't thinking about that."

Eddie laughed and rubbed circles into Richie's wrists with his thumbs. "Neither was I." He watched Richie's face twitch in confusion, and his heart throbbed with fondness. Stupid, handsome Richie, always so full of himself to hide the fact that he never believed anyone would choose him, least of all Eddie. This would take some convincing, it seemed. "... I'm going to leave Myra, okay?"

That seemed to wake Richie up, his shoulders straightening in shock. Richie didn't often let himself take up all the space warranted him, and Eddie couldn't help but shiver at how it felt to have Richie looming over him, to be swallowed up in another man's shadow.

God, he had no idea how he had pretended to be straight for forty years when shoulders like that were out there existing in the world.

"I think I'm missing something," Richie said, sounding dazed. Eddie snorted.

"I'm going to ask for a divorce, okay? Because I… Well, it's not entirely because of you, don't get a big head, Tozier. The fact of the matter is that it's pretty pathetic to be as gay as I am and still stick around with a woman I'm not even friends with--"

"That looks like your mom," Richie interrupted.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, whatever, Rich. The point is, I want to be with you. I do." Eddie sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and ignored how Richie's eyes darted down to stare at his mouth. He couldn't afford to get distracted right now. "But I made Myra a promise, and while I have no intention of 'til death do us part', I can at least keep most of it. Which means…" Eddie took a deep breath, steeling himself for the oath he was about to make to himself. "You're going to have to give me time to get this taken care of. After that, though… I'm yours, if you want me."

Richie went quiet for a moment, brow furrowing, and Eddie's heart sank. It was a lot to ask, he knew that. There weren't a lot of men who would be comfortable waiting while you went back to your wife. Especially when that trust was based on old memories and three days of intense chemistry. Richie had no proof that Eddie would go through with it once he got to New York.

Eddie wouldn't fault him for fear.

Eventually, though, Richie spoke. "So…" He shifted, serious eyes flitting back up to Eddie's nervous gaze. "No head?"

The words took a moment to settle into Eddie's brain, as he blinked in confusion. "Did you-- Did you just quote a fucking Vine at me?"

Delight burst across Richie's face. "Yup! And you admitted you've seen Vines, so I'm gonna say it was worth it."

It was relief more than actual humor that had Eddie laughing even as he dropped Richie's hand with a groan. "Ugh, I changed my mind--" he began, which only made Richie reach out for him, looping both arms around Eddie's waist and pulling him against his chest. Eddie knew he should protest, but he was too happy to protest. Richie would never be making jokes like this to turn him down.

Besides, he thought, resting his hands on Richie's shoulders, this memory might be enough to get him through until he could be with Richie properly.

"No take-backs," Richie said, grinning down at Eddie. "You said you'd be mine, and now you have to do it." Richie gentled, his smile a little more sincere. "I'm serious, Eds. I'll wait, if that's what it takes. You can be my man, off to war in the heathen lands of New York City. I'll walk the beach and yearn for you every night."

"You can leave a candle in the window," Eddie suggested, and Richie held him a little closer.

"Honestly, though, it'll be fine. Besides, how long can a divorce take?"

As it turned out, too damn long.

Eddie's first mistake had been underestimating the lengths which Myra was willing to go to 'save' their marriage. He'd never expected her to simply accept a divorce when he asked for it, of course, but he'd figured that coming out of the closet would convince her of it. Not even when he told her he was in love with someone else.

Her first question had been whether Eddie had cheated. Eddie answered no, and that he wasn't planning on it, and Myra had given him this smile that chilled him right down to the bone. According to her, as long as Eddie hadn't done anything "regretful" yet, all was well. He'd walked out of the kitchen at that point, and tried again at breakfast the next morning.

The next few weeks had been a stressful mix of Eddie dealing with work, meeting with attorneys, and building up his tolerance to Myra's tantrums. And they were just tantrums, he was sure of it. When sobbing and begging didn't elicit enough sympathy in him, she switched to screaming and threats, and then to cold insults.

They were tactics that had worked on Eddie before Derry, and even with the knowledge that this was all for the best, it still hurt. He had lived with Myra for almost twenty years now, and while he had never been in love with her, he had considered her, at least, his best friend. The last thing he wanted was to see her writhing on the floor in tears. Or, worse, screaming at him from their bedroom. Sitting across the kitchen table and calling him names he hadn't heard in his direction since middle school.

When the last of his affection for her gave out, Eddie didn't blow up like Richie had predicted. That was just another step in the cycle he was trying to get out of. Instead, Eddie had repacked two suitcases and a toiletry bag, let Myra know that his petition would be on its way, and left for the nearest hotel.

He called Richie from the bed, where he had collapsed immediately after arriving.

"Wow, she sounds like a piece of work," Richie said, the phone line making his voice sound hollow. Eddie yearned to be back in his arms. That wasn't cheating, wasn't it? To hug your best friend?

"Yeah, I-- Fuck, I have no idea how I didn't see it before." Eddie tried to rub the headache out of his forehead. "I'm such an idiot."

"Well, you're definitely an idiot," Richie said, ignoring Eddie's mumbled curse, "but not for that. Come on, out of four married Losers, three of them are getting divorced right now. Face it, we all have a disease, and it's chronic."

Eddie hoped it wasn't true, because he had big plans for his second marriage. Saying that out loud definitely felt like cheating, though, so instead he said, "I wouldn't tell Ben that. I'm pretty sure he's already planning to propose the second Bev gets her divorce cleared."

"Really?" Richie's voice sounded too mischevious for Eddie's own good. "I need to compare notes, then."

The implication hit Eddie like a fist to the chest, and the guilt followed after. As horrible as Myra was, she didn't deserve Eddie planning his next wedding while he was still married to her. "Rich," Eddie breathed. Suddenly, the big hotel bed, the one he'd been so excited for after a week on the couch, felt very lonely. "I…"

"You don't have to say anything, Spaghetti, I get it. Nix on the lovey-dovey shit while you're off the market."

"I don't intend to ever be on the market," Eddie reminded him. It was the best reassurance he could give.

Richie huffed a soft laugh into the receiver. "Unfair, making me blush when I can't fight back," he said. Richie paused, and Eddie didn't rush to fill the gap for once, closing his eyes and listening to Richie breathe for a moment. "So what happens next?"

"I get my lawyers to draft up a petition for a divorce. Myra and her lawyers respond, then we take an inventory of everything we own together and try to settle who gets what," Eddie said. "But that only works if we can get her to agree to divorce me. If not, we go to trial."

"Trial sounds like it would take a long time," Richie said.

Yeah, Eddie was afraid that would come out. "Yeah, uh… If we don't settle, it could be another nine months."

"Jesus, Eds."

Eddie winced. "I know, Rich, I'm so sorry--"

"No, I don't mean-- Sure, I'm not exactly ecstatic to be single for nine months, but forget that for a second." Eddie could hear the shift of fabric on the other side of the line. He imagined Richie finally sitting up, into the argument enough to break his practised slacker slouch, and smiled. "But you can't live in a hotel for nine months, Eddie, that's ridiculous."

"I'm not going to find a lease for less than a year," Eddie said. He'd had this argument with himself in the car on the way over. It hadn't been productive then, either. "It's New York. Everything short term is functionally a hotel room anyway; At least here I have room service. Besides," Eddie said, trying to make his voice more optimistic than he felt, "It's not that bad."

"Did you forget who you're talking to? I'm a touring comedian, dude, I know what living out of a hotel room feels like. It's depressing, which is the last thing you need. I can hear the stress in your voice. It sounds like the muffled tones of an EKG."

Eddie snorted. "Alright, Tozier, you got any better ideas?"

Richie replied instantly, as if he'd been planning for the conversation to worm its way here all night. "Come stay with me."

Desire clenched at Eddie's stomach painfully, followed quickly by a wash of regret and guilt. He wanted so much, most chiefly to say yes, to fly into Richie's arms and start the life they deserve together. But he couldn't do that to Myra on top of everything else. She was an awful person, but no one deserved that.

"Rich," Eddie said, reproachful. "You know I can't do that. We've been over this." He wished he could be angry at Richie for the temptation, but the truth of the matter was that Eddie couldn't blame him. If situations were reversed, Eddie couldn't imagine doing anything less than begging Richie to love him.

"No, hear me out," Richie said quickly. "We can do this without the romance thing, so it won't be cheating. Until everything goes through, we can just be roomies. It'll be fun!"

He tried to imagine living with Richie platonically, but the idea was so incompatible with his usual fantasies that his brain refused to acknowledge the idea. The problem was that Eddie knew what he wanted: Kissing Richie awake in the morning, holding hands while they watched tv, cuddling Richie from behind while Rich did the dishes. Going to bed curled against Richie's broad shoulders, the calluses on Richie's hands against his skin. Anything but platonic.

Still, something was better than nothing, wasn't it? Eddie chewed at his bottom lip as he thought about how nice it would be to at least see Richie every morning, even if he wasn't allowed to touch. Even as he thought it, Eddie knew that it would be asking for trouble. It was hard enough to say no to Richie with a country in-between them. That wasn't even including how hard it would be for Richie...

"Are you sure, Rich?" Eddie asked. "I know it's not easy."

Richie scoffed. "What, Eds, you think I'm some kind of animal? I can control myself for a couple months. We're still friends, aren't we?"

Eddie could feel himself melt. "Of course we are, dipshit. Best friends."

"Then it's settled. You're coming to LA and you'll sleep in my guest room, because that's what a best friend would do." Richie's voice brokered no argument. His words were filled with so much confidence that Eddie found himself being almost convinced that they could do this.

"I'll think about it," Eddie said. "Who knows, maybe Myra will give in, and we can get this over with, and--"

"And I'll come to you." Richie's gentle words had Eddie's heart fluttering in his chest. "Sure, Eds, whatever you want. The offer stands, though. Let me know."

Eddie grinned. "Thanks, man."

In the end, he only lasted another three weeks before he capitulated to Richie's careful reminders. Richie had been right; Eddie hated living out of a hotel. Even worse, the hotel hated having Eddie-- Every day, the staff got less and less patient with Eddie's quirks. He couldn't say that he blamed them, although he definitely blamed them for their shoddy dusting. Eddie had always been a crappy guest. The stress of being almost two months into a divorce with a woman who had very much not wanted a divorce was only making him worse.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked for the millionth time, even as he packed his suitcase. "I'm not exactly easy to live with." The rare moment of self-awareness was ruined by Richie's snort.

"Yeah, I'm fucking aware, Eds. You're a nightmare. But, like, what's new?"

Eddie narrowed a glare at his phone, sure that Richie could feel it even without words. "Fuck you, Tozier. This was your idea!"

"I know! And it's fine, dude," Richie said, laughing. "You've been crazy the entire time I've known you. I knew when I invited you that you would do your best to drive me crazy." His voice gentled. "You always have. I fell in love with you anyway, didn't I?"

Surprised tears sprung into Eddie's eyes immediately, his hands bunching the shirt he'd been folding in tight fists. Neither of them had said it before. Eddie had thought it, of course, what felt like a million times. He knew Richie felt it, too, but it seemed safer for it to go unspoken. Now…

Richie had gone quiet, too, in the face of what he'd said.

"Rich…" Eddie choked out, trying to school his breathing. Tears still streamed down his face, but the last thing he wanted was for Richie to hear him sobbing over the phone.

"God, Eds, I'm-- Shit. Forget I said anything, okay?" Richie said frantically. "I forgot for a second. It won't happen again, I promise--"

"It's okay," Eddie said, cutting him off. "I don't mind. But I can't…" He couldn't say it back. He wanted to so fucking badly, but saying it back would be a step too far. He couldn't. "Richie, I can't," he sobbed.

"Don't worry about it, Spaghetti," Richie said, his voice pitched low and soothing. "It's fine. Just get home soon, okay?"

Eddie moved his flight two days earlier and it still felt too far away.

That first weekend in LA was awkward, the distance between them feeling larger than it had been with a country separating them. The space was a physical thing. They carried it around as they unpacked Eddie's things, as they went to all Richie's favorite places, as they ate dinner on opposite sides of the kitchen. Richie held himself so carefully, smaller and quieter than Eddie had ever seen him. It hurt, watching him like that-- Eddie knew it was out of respect for his decisions, but it didn't stop him from craving Richie's touch.

Richie's focus waned, though, as it always did, and by the third day, they started to drift back together, pulled like magnets. A week into Eddie's new life, Richie threw a friendly arm around Eddie's shoulders, and everything clicked back into place. Eddie grinned and leaned into Richie's shoulder.

Touch, it turned out, was addicting. Richie's hands seemed to be on him almost constantly, and although it was all strictly platonic, Eddie was going a little mad with it. Even the most casual of touches (like Richie gripping his shoulder as he leaned over to grab a bowl) had Eddie's brain shorting out. Nothing but white registered behind his eyes as he focused on the broad flat of Richie's palm.

He only wanted more, and it became something of a game, thinking up reasons to reach out and touch Richie back. Patting his back as they laughed together, squeezing his wrist as they talked, squeezing his hip to cajole him out of the kitchen in the mornings. The best part was watching Richie's face when their skin met. Watching Richie's eyes flash and knowing it affected Richie just as badly made Eddie's veins shiver.

So they kept reaching out, and by the time Eddie had been there a couple of weeks, it wasn't uncommon for them to spend most of the day touching in some small way. Their knees bumped under the table at dinner. Richie spent hours of the day sitting next to Eddie as he worked, scribbling into a notebook with his left hand tucked into the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck.

One night Eddie found himself tucked into Richie's side, one thick arm around him. Their legs were tangled together, feet propped up on the ottoman. Some screwball comedy played on the television, and Richie watched it with uncharacteristic focus.

As kids, Eddie and Richie had seen countless movies together, and getting Richie to shut up to actually watch it had been a trial everytime. Now that he was writing his own material, though, comedies always quieted him down.

Eddie didn't care what they watched one way or the other, but he definitely enjoyed watching Richie try to dissect a script as they watched. His eyebrows twitched when a joke landed flat, and Eddie was obsessed with the way his nose scrunched as he huffed out a laugh. Richie's face was open and expressive, and Eddie would have happily sat there for hours and catalogued every microexpression.

At least, he could have if it weren't for the way Richie, incapable of being quiet and sitting still, would rock his feet from side to side the entire time. It was a constant, steady motion, following a beat that Eddie couldn't decipher. When they sat close like this, the tic had Eddie's feet caught up in the motion, too, their toes and ankles bumping together.

Loathe to extract himself from Richie's side, Eddie endured it until he no longer could.

"Jesus Christ, Richie, can you please sit still for two seconds?" Eddie pinched at Richie's thigh, hard, smiling when Richie jumped away from him. At least, as far as he could without withdrawing the arm around Eddie's shoulders.

"Ow, fuck!" Richie glared at Eddie, his own hand rubbing at the spot. The bouncing feet had stopped. "What was that for?"

"You were being an annoying little shit," Eddie hissed, and a small, wicked smile broke Richie's indignation.

"What, by doing this?" Richie tapped his foot against Eddie's, jostling them so that all rhythm was lost in the recoil.

Eddie raised his hand threateningly. "Do you want me to do it again, jackass?" His hand darted towards Richie's thigh again. Richie, yelling incomprehensible protests, caught his wrist in his free hand. Then, of course, Eddie tried to pinch Richie's arm with his left hand, and the entire thing devolved into awkward, half-hearted wrestling.

They were already too wrapped up in each other to duke it out, and already exhausted besides. Eddie gave up soon enough, pulled into Richie's chest with an arm around his waist and both his wrists in one of Richie's large hands. Richie's chest swelled against him, rise and fall, and Eddie's laughter died in his throat.

"Who's being an annoying little shit now?" Richie said, the ghosts of his laughter still curling around the edges.

Eddie chose not to dignify that with a remark, struggling against Richie's grip. "Let me go, you overgrown primate."

"What, so you can pinch and poke at me all night? I don't think so." Richie smirked as Eddie ineffectually pulled at his grip. Eddie was never much for being dominated, but he could still feel the heat in his stomach twist as Richie's hand tightened. Richie was so big. He was so big, and so strong, and he still did was Eddie told him to, most of the time. This was just another one of Richie's small rebellions. He liked to keep Eddie on his toes.

Frown deepening, Eddie stopped trying to escape and instead leaned into Richie's embrace, the point of contact in their chests firm. The thing that Richie kept forgetting is that he had already played all his cards. There wasn't much Eddie could do about it now, but he knew exactly how soft Richie could be for him. In all his efforts to keep his distance, he had ignored what that meant in the change of their dynamic.

Eddie couldn't think about anything else.

"Let go of me," Eddie said, his voice deceptively calm. It took every part of him to keep his voice steady, and he had to drag his brain kicking and screaming away from how Richie's body felt against his. "Or you will regret it, Tozier."

Richie leaned back a little, and Eddie, resting most of his weight on Richie's chest, was now almost looming over him. A little spike of electricity raced up Eddie's spine but he didn't let himself shiver with the thrill. "Oh yeah?" Richie said. Eddie meant to meet his eyes in challenge, but Richie licked at his lips and Eddie was… distracted, his eyes dropping to Richie's mouth.

"Yup," Eddie said. "I can make things very, very hard for you, otherwise." He hadn't meant the innuendo, but by the time he completed the sentence, Eddie had decided it was for the best. The way Richie shuddered underneath him was too delicious to miss. Eddie met Richie's gaze once again, relishing in the way Richie's pupils blew open when Eddie pressed a little firmer into his warmth.

"Fuck," Richie breathed out. Almost habitually, Richie's head ducked down until his nose was brushing Eddie's, mumbling curses under his breath. Eddie answered with a reassuring hum, pressing in and stretching his neck up to catch Richie's mouth with his--

And then Richie was sliding out from under him, sitting up against the arm of the couch. Eddie, feeling cold and bereft, could only follow, tugged along by Richie's grip still firm on his wrists. He flushed, embarrassed by the rejection, and pulled his hands towards his chest.

"Come on, Rich, stop it--"

"Fine," Richie interrupted, and his grip finally loosened. Eddie pulled his hands out of Richie's, ready to untangle their legs and retreat to somewhere safe to dissect his own shame. He shifted, their legs sliding together as he tried to pull away, but was stopped by Richie grabbing his right hand once again. "Fine," Richie repeated, "but I'm keeping this one."

Then, watching Eddie's face the entire time, Richie interlocked their fingers, palm to palm. Eddie hadn't held hands like this since he had been a stupid, horny teenager. Watching the blush creep up Richie's neck, he felt the same as he had then, a quarter of a century ago. Stupid and horny and unsure of what, exactly, was happening to him.

"That's okay, right?" Richie asked, sounding more vulnerable than Eddie had ever heard him. He had sounded more sure of himself even in the depths of Hell. Eddie couldn't breathe with the knowledge that he was the only thing that could ever make Richie sound like that.

"Yeah," Eddie said. He let out the breath he had been holding, the action relaxing him back against Richie's side. His legs collapsed back into the pile of limbs on their ottoman. "Of course, Rich."

They watched the rest of the movie like that, and then another, and then the evening news, both of them finding every reason to not let go. Eddie couldn't remember what they had decided to watch, or what was happening in DC. Nothing existed but the callouses on the tips of Richie's fingers, and the outline of the scar across Richie's knuckles.

When Eddie crawled into bed that night, keenly aware of the empty space next to him, guilt began to permeate the bliss wrapped around Eddie's heart. After all his big words about not cheating on Myra, Eddie hadn't hesitated to take any opportunity to throw himself at Richie. He'd been shameless, Eddie realized, flushing in the dark. Climbing on top of Richie like that…. Worst of all, it had been Richie who had to come to his senses and pull away, because Eddie was too gone to remember his own vow.

He wouldn't have blamed Richie for taking a step back from their usual familiarity, but the next morning Richie acted as if nothing had happened. He still ruffled Eddie's hair when he passed, still smiled down at him. That night, Richie sat close on the couch, and followed the same irritating routine of feet tap tap tapping.

The only difference was that, halfway through the film, Richie reached out and looped his fingers through Eddie's.

That meant something, but Eddie couldn't be sure what. His brain was too busy thinking about how Richie's palm engulfed his, how his fingers were so long that Richie could stroke the back of Eddie's hand.

Eddie had almost relaxed when it happened again. This time, there was no banter or childish roughhousing that led up to it. Eddie, tucked into Richie's side again, had looked up at Richie and found that Richie was already looking at him. Richie's eyes burned with intensity, and Eddie froze, caught in the lights. He'd forgotten, he thought vaguely, how handsome Richie looked when he was really focusing on something.

Eddie hadn't noticed himself drifting forward anymore than he noticed Richie curling down into him. It wasn't until their lips hovered moments from each other that Eddie even understood why he felt like his heart was digging its way out of his chest.

The moment held for what felt like lifetimes before Eddie pulled back, finally, blinking sudden tears from his eyes. Richie didn't let him go far, stretching out and pulling Eddie back to his side. Eddie's brain was miles away, thinking about nothing but kissing Richie over and over.

It kept happening.

Every night they seemed to get closer and closer, until Eddie could swear he could taste Richie on the tip of his tongue. It was harder to pull away when his vision was full of nothing but Richie. Sometimes they just sat like that, breathing each other's air, for minutes at a time. Usually, Eddie would pull away, on the edge of frustrated tears, but sometimes Richie would come to his senses first.

Those were always the worst. Richie tried to make a joke of it with the wry grin he sent Eddie every time, but there was so much regret in his eyes. The last thing Eddie felt like doing was laughing.

It would have been so easy to give in, Eddie knew, and he wanted it so badly. He thought about it all the time, dreamt about it, woke up to the thought again in the morning. Sometimes at work the lines of the spreadsheets would fuse together in his blurred vision. His eyes would unfocus and there would be the picture of Richie and his goddamn mouth, begging for Eddie.

If he were a smart man, Eddie would put a stop to it. He thought about it every morning on the way to work-- Richie wouldn't fight him on it, if he steered the night away from the couch. There were movies they both wanted to see, museums and aquariums and parks that he could pretend to be interested in. They could spend time together outside of their cozy apartment, hold hands as they walked down the street, and not be… tempted.

The problem was, of course, that Eddie didn't want to stop. Every day he would decide that today was the day he finally put his foot down, and then he would find himself slumped into Richie's side as they both dozed. It was all the touching that did him in, Eddie thought during his commutes home. It would have been fine if it were only the closeness, but now they were reaching out for each other every night. Eddie was addicted to the feeling of Richie's thumb stroking his cheekbone.

One night, Richie wore the softest black turtleneck known to man. Eddie had laughed at him, making jokes about hipsters and the French and pod people, but the moment he felt it under his hand, the laughter had died on his tongue. It wasn't long before Eddie was curled completely into Richie, his face buried in Richie's shoulder, soaking in all the warm comfort. They had completely given up all pretense of watching the movie, and Eddie was sprawled across Richie's chest. Their joined hands were caught between their bodies. Eddie had a hand twisted in the curls at the nape of Richie's neck, appreciating the cool silkiness against his sleep-warm skin.

Eddie dozed in and out of consciousness while Richie traced patterns on his back. The warmth of Richie's fingers seeped through the thin cotton, sending Eddie further into dreams. Eventually, the movie ended, bombastic theme playing over the credits, and Eddie stirred, blinking up at Richie.

"There he is," Richie whispered, grinning down at him. "Have a nice nap?"

Eddie glared back, resisting the urge to rub his eyes like a child. "I wasn't fucking sleeping," he lied. "Your movies are just boring."

Richie hummed, a mocking agreement, deepening Eddie's scowl. "Of course not. My mistake." He dragged his hand up the line of Eddie's spine, settling lie a collar across the back of Eddie's neck.

Flustered, Eddie shifted, trying to find a little more control in the situation. He rose up on his knees, so he could be eye to eye with Richie, their hands in a knot on Richie's sternum. The new position didn't help as much as he thought it would, only drawing attention to how he was straddling Richie's hips. Not to mention the fact that, in an effort not to sit on Richie's knees, he had leaned into Richie until their noses brushed when he looked up again.

"Um." Eddie froze.

Nudging their noses together playfully, Richie muttered, "Hey there, Spaghetti. Come here often?"

"Shut up," Eddie said, but he couldn't deny how breathy his voice sounded, or how he leaned even further in. The bridges of their noses met in a long stroke as Eddie tilted his head. He didn't remember his nose being particularly sensitive before all this nonsense started, but in the last couple of weeks he had been obsessed with the slow drag of skin. It sent crackles of electricity straight to Eddie's chest, and he couldn't help but lick his lips when the air stuttered in his aching lungs.

"Ah... " Richie grunted. "Fuck it."

Eddie could see him ducking in for the kiss, Richie's eyes sliding down to Eddie's mouth. Eddie could feel it coming, the inevitable pull of something they'd both been waiting weeks (three decades) for. He wanted it so badly, wanted to meet Richie halfway and throw himself into it, wet and open and shaking.

But, fuck, he'd made a promise.

Turning his head at the last second, Eddie dodged the kiss. It landed on his cheek, instead, close to the corner of his mouth. Only a dry press of his lips to his skin, but it had Eddie choking down a sob. Richie paused, his breath fanning hot and wet over Eddie's skin. It felt like a physical touch, stoking the flame in Eddie's chest.

He wanted so much. Wanted to turn back and lick his way behind Richie's teeth. Wanted Richie to keep kissing him, his cheeks, his mouth, his neck. Wanted to sink back down onto Richie's chest and never get up. But he couldn't. God, he couldn't let himself do it and it felt like a fucking death sentence.

"Richie." The name sounded punched out, like Richie's name was the natural sound of Eddie's breathing. In response, Richie kissed Eddie's cheek again, his mouth falling open. It was slicker than the last and Eddie panicked at the wave of lust that slammed into him. "Jesus, Richie, I--"

Unthinking, Eddie tugged Richie's head away from him with fingers tangled in his hair. It was a bad idea, he knew it was, but he didn't know the breadth of his own stupidity until Richie let a groan stutter out of his throat. Eddie stopped, frozen between one breath and the next, his grip tightening in shock. Richie sounded like Eddie had stabbed him, pained and desperate, but the way he was looking at Eddie now was--

Eddie felt his cock jump in his jeans, leaking against his underwear.

"I can't," he said. Eddie scrambled back, tugging his hand out of Richie's grasp. Richie watched him go with blown out eyes and a blush high on his cheeks. "God, I'm sorry, but I can't. You know I can't, Rich…" He felt like he was begging, and maybe he was, because he knew that if Richie pushed it further, he wouldn't be able to keep saying no. It was already so hard to push him away, and Eddie could feel his resolve wavering.

Richie was better than that. Better than Eddie. He sat up, the lustful daze in his eyes replaced with guilt. "Hey, hey, it's okay, Eds… It's okay! Nothing happened. I--" Richie frowned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… but you fixed it. Bev kisses me on the cheek all the time. It's… It can be platonic, totally."

It was a shitty explanation, but Eddie was desperate enough to take it. "Absolutely," he agreed, relieved when Richie nodded along. "It's all completely platonic. But, uh…" Eddie was willing to break the rules, a little, if it made that awful look in Richie's eyes fade. "Do me a favor and don't be an idiot about this, okay? You're allowed to want to kiss me, you know that I-- that I would let you, if I could. If you spend the next week moping around the house or avoiding me I will kick your ass."

Richie managed a grin. "It's so sexy when you threaten me with violence, baby."

Eddie rolled his eyes and stood, ignoring that his knees shook under his own weight. "I'm going to bed. Go take a cold shower, perv," he said, like his own erection wasn't stark, straining against the buttons of his pajamas. He stumbled to his room, Richie's laughter trailing after him.

After that, Eddie did try to keep a respectable distance between the two of them. Each time, Richie would grin and go along with whatever Eddie suggested, but Eddie could still see the disappointment in his eyes. Eddie tried not to let it get to him; He knew that it would make it so much sweeter when they could finally be together if they did this right.

After a week of keeping two feet between them at all times, Eddie was something of a holy terror. He was frustrated and sleep deprived, his nights taken up with fantasies of Richie's mouth on his skin again. Eddie's only real outlet was his daily emails with his lawyers. No, they didn't actually make things go faster, but it made him feel better. At least he wasn't sitting there, waiting for Myra to realize Eddie wasn't coming back.

Soon, though, even strongly worded letters to everyone from partner to paralegal wasn't enough. Eddie collapsed next to Richie on the couch. Richie smiled, took Eddie's hand, and turned on Netflix.

It only took a couple days for them to end up right back where they started, and Eddie could only blame himself. It was impossible to push Richie away when he would glance at Eddie through his eyelashes before giving Eddie a kiss. To Richie's credit, it started innocently enough. Only one kiss, high on Eddie's cheek, before Richie let his head drop to Eddie's shoulder and settled in for the next episode.

The more Eddie allowed, though, the more Richie wanted. It started with soft pecks on Eddie's forehead when they cuddled on the couch and turned into long, sucking kisses on the cords of Eddie's neck. The first morning that Eddie realized he had a hickey under the collar of his shirt, he didn't stop blushing until lunch. Still, when Richie reached for him that night, Eddie didn't push him away.

It was fine, he thought, as he sighed under Richie's teeth and tongue. It wasn't cheating; They hadn't even kissed yet. Not in any way that mattered. All their clothes were on, and Eddie hadn't done much of anything but hold on for the ride. It was fine. Completely and totally-- Richie bit down, teeth digging into the meat of Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie's train of thought tumbled off the tracks.

"Fuck, Rich," Eddie groaned. His hands, fisted into Richie's hair, tugged gently as a fresh spike of lust went straight to his stomach. "You gotta-- you gotta let me fucking breathe."

Richie laughed, mouth open against the hollow of Eddie's neck. "I can't help it, Eds. You're so fucking hot like this; I wanna taste your sweat." Richie shifted closer, his thighs pushing Eddie's running shorts further up his own.

The idea of Richie licking his sweat should have been gross. With anyone else Eddie was certain it would be, but at the moment it was sending Eddie into a spiral. He gripped Richie's head and pulled him closer, let him press kisses to Eddie's shoulders as Eddie hid his face. On instinct, his hips jolted forward to meet Richie's and, with a moan, Eddie realised that Richie was meeting the thrust-- And he wasn't stopping.

Richie's hips were rolling like he could fuck himself on Eddie's dick through the denim, rubbing his bulge against Eddie's lower stomach. Eddie gasped, so turned on he thought he might catch flame, but he had to pull back, had to stop this. It was too much, too good, and he had promised--

Eddie's hands slid out of Richie's hair and cupped his face, pulling it away from his own skin. "Rich," he said, and Richie's eyes opened to meet his. God, Richie was so beautiful like this, and that was almost enough for Eddie to say fuck it and let Richie take what he wanted. Eyes blown black, cheeks pink, and lips red from exploring every centimeter of Eddie's shoulders. Eddie made himself breath, tilting Richie's head so he couldn't look away. "Rich, you have to--"

One of his thumbs was tucked into the corner of Richie's mouth and, without breaking eye contact, Richie tilted his head and sucked Eddie's thumb into his mouth. The protests died before Eddie could even collect them. His entire life narrowed down to the wet heat of Richie's mouth. Richie's tongue swirled around the tip like it would give him something, like he was imagining Eddie's cock, hard and leaking, in his mouth instead.

Every thought of stopping shattered.

Time turned into something solid for a moment, like the moment before oncoming traffic hits you, thick like pudding. Eddie moved through it with effort, shifting so he could cup Richie's jaw with a little more force. When Eddie slipped his thumb deeper into Richie's mouth, down to the second knuckle, it felt like inevitability. Richie moaned around Eddie's thumb, pressing his tongue flat to the underside. The vibrations buzzed straight into Eddie's bones.

"You like that, Rich?" He watched Richie's eyes flutter shut in fascination. If you had asked him yesterday, Eddie would have said that he knew Richie better than anyone else, but he had never seen him undone like this. Richie had so many walls, so many of them painted so brightly you never noticed they were there, and finally they were letting Eddie in. "Yeah, I bet you do," Eddie continued. His mouth was running on instinct at this point, and that was always a bad idea, for both of them. "I should have known you had that big mouth for a reason. Needed something to fill it up, didn't you?"

Richie gave a small, assenting noise. Before it could even leave his throat, Eddie bent his thumb down, pressing into the thick, spongy flesh of Richie's tongue. Richie's eyes flew open in shock. Eddie only stared back, watching Richie's reaction as he began to drag his thumb back and forth across the width. He suppressed a shiver of his own; The drag of Richie's tastebuds against his skin made him feel hypersensitive, his thumb sending signals straight to his cock.

Eddie cooed some twisted facsimile of a mother's tutting as Richie worked his tongue and lips, sucking hard. He was trying to get Eddie deeper, that much was obvious, but the webbing of Eddie's hand was already stretched as far as it would go.

"There isn't enough of it, is there?" Eddie tried to soothe Richie as he spoke, stroking the side of his face and neck with his free hand. "You need a cock, don't you, Rich? Yeah, I know you do." Eddie had never been predisposed to dirty talk, but he felt that if he didn't give himself some kind of outlet, Richie's rough grind was going to set him off.

Even then, keyed up and horny, he knew that wouldn't be a good idea.

Richie whined and squirmed against him, and Eddie stroked down Richie's broad shoulders. With the flat of hand he pressed into the small of Richie's back, tilting his hips into a better angle. Richie's hard cock pressed into his hip, Eddie smiled. "Don't worry, I'm gonna give you what you need."

Eddie replaced his thumb with two fingers, letting Richie's tongue slip and lick at the webbing between them. Richie sobbed around them, his own hands clawing at Eddie's back. "There you go, baby," Eddie said as Richie's pace grew frantic. "That's it. Fuck yourself on me, just like that."

Richie's face, pink all over, his eyes glazed and glasses crooked, was the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen. He could understand why so many men confused sex with love, because if he hadn't been sure he loved Richie beforehand, he did now. Eddie wanted nothing more than to make Richie look like this everyday, and make sure no one else ever saw sheer bliss like this ever again.

The rhythm of Richie's hips grew more and more erratic, and Eddie could tell Richie was close from the determined, if hazy, look in his eyes.

"Are you gonna cum for me?" Eddie asked, and even he couldn't deny the sheer delight in his own voice. The guilt couldn't touch him here, not with Richie's arms around him, his mouth bobbing up and down on Eddie's fingers. Eddie was entranced, worlds away from any universe where he had ever been promised to anyone but Richie Tozier.

Richie hummed a sweet affirmation as he nipped at the tips of Eddie's fingers, and then took them as deep as he could manage. Eddie almost missed Richie's orgasm, shattering over him as he gave his last hard, staccatoed thrusts. He was too focused on the faint flutter of Richie's throat around his fingertips.

"There you go, beautiful," Eddie said as Richie went still against him. Richie's mouth fell open, and Eddie slid his fingers free, wiping away the excess spit on Richie's bottom lip. Slumping forward, Richie buried his face in the crook of Eddie's neck, and Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie's waist. They needed to talk about this, in a position that didn't involve Eddie's erection in the cradle of Richie's thighs, but something told Eddie that Richie needed a second to pull himself together.

It was a little selfish, too. Eddie enjoyed holding Richie, smoothing his hands up and down the long line of Richie's back. This, even more than the sex, was the thing Eddie was looking forward to the most. One day soon, he could touch Richie like this all the time. Whenever he wanted.

Until then, Eddie was going to take advantage of the opportunity.

"You were so good," Eddie told Richie, muttering the words into Richie's shoulder. He pressed a kiss against the words before continuing, "You looked so fucking beautiful coming apart like that, Rich. So fucking good for me, I can't believe it."

Richie's voice sounded so small against Eddie's skin. "You're not mad at me?"

"If I didn't want it to happen, I would have stopped it." The guilt was starting to creep in and his lust had begun to fade in the face of reality, but the pride stayed. It was a stupid thing to feel when you almost cheated on your soon-to-be-ex-wife, but pride was like a sun in Eddie's chest. He felt warm down to his toes with it.

He made Richie feel that good, and he had barely done anything. Him. No one else.

"I mean, I don't-- I can't…" Eddie wasn't quite sure how to say, 'I think it's fine as long as I don't come,' and have Richie believe him. He wasn't sure he believed it himself.

Richie straightened up, and Eddie realized with horror that there were tears in the corner of Richie's eyes.

"Oh my god, Rich, I'm so fucking sorry. I know this is so fucked up, I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you--"

"Oh, this?" Richie laughed weakly, pushing his glasses out of the way and wiping at his eyes. "Nah, it happens sometimes. Usually when I jerk off and it takes too long. A therapist once told me that it was a stress release thing."

"You don't have a therapist," Eddie said suspiciously.

"It's an old diagnosis," Richie joked. His gaze darted back up to Eddie's as he shoved his glasses back into position. Through all the bluster, Eddie could see a little actual happiness shine through Richie's eyes.

Thank god.

"So… you're okay?" If there was even a chance that they could walk away from this with a crack in the perfect future Eddie was clinging to, Eddie couldn't bear to take it. "I swear, if I thought…"

"No, seriously, Eds. I'm fine. I know the rules, but I got caught up in the moment and then you started acting like a porn star and I lost my mind a little. If this changes anything for you, I completely get it--"

"Shut up, Richie," Eddie interrupted, but he couldn't even bring himself to sound angry. Richie was too good for him. The rest of the Losers liked to joke that it was Eddie who was settling, but Eddie knew the truth. Richie was an extraordinary, loyal man, and Eddie didn't deserve an ounce of his devotion. "It doesn't change anything. I l--"

Eddie bit down on the words and Richie smiled, sad and knowing.

"Yeah, me too, Eds."

Their hands found each other, fingers intertwining and resting on Richie's thigh, where it was still thrown over Eddie's hip. "You know," Eddie said, "I plan on telling you the second I get that stupid fucking paperwork through."

"I know." Richie's grin grew a little more genuine, and Eddie couldn't help but match it. "Until then, wanna be my best friend again?"

"I feel like we've had this conversation before."

Ignoring Eddie, Richie stood up, patting Eddie's head condescendingly as he stepped back. "In that case, Edward, you should go take care of that obscenity," he said, eyes flicking down to Eddie's crotch where his erection tented his sweatpants. 'Obscene' was the word for it, the fabric thin enough Eddie could make out the outline of the head of his own cock. "Giving each other boners is not in the bro code."

Eddie flung the nearest pillow at Richie's head even as he burst into laughter. Richie yelped and ducked, running to the kitchen while yelling something about "bro-jobs" and "JO crystals". Eddie launched another pillow after him over his shoulder, blind. They both only laughed harder when the soft thump was followed by the distinct sound of shattering glass.

He could do this, Eddie thought. He could be happy with friends.

His cock throbbed as Richie started to hum to himself in the kitchen.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one gets pretty weird, so i hope you guys still like me lol 
> 
> make sure to check the tags; they've been updated

Eddie spent the next two weeks in a constant state of low-grade lust. 

He hadn't jerked off this much since high school and the guilty discovery that he liked baseball for the uniforms more than the sport. The worst part was that masturbation didn't even help fix the problem. Sure, it got rid of his boner, and he was good for the next few hours, but not getting it up didn't mean Eddie wasn't thinking about it-- And he was. 

Constantly. 

If anything, it made it worse, because the fantasies that Eddie came up with when he was chasing an orgasm haunted him for the rest of the day. He would zone out for entire minutes at work, thinking about how big Richie's hands would look wrapped around Eddie's cock or trying to imagine how Richie's dick would feel in his mouth.

The worst was the couch. Richie had been so good, doing exactly what Eddie had asked of him. They still held hands, and Richie had kissed him on the crown of the head sometimes, but for two long weeks, Richie had acted like a blushing maiden. 

That blush drove Eddie crazy every single time.

It was that pride again, Eddie thought, that sick feeling of possession in knowing Richie wasn't like this for anyone but him. He figured that was a common feeling, some throwback to cavemen and the need to claim a mate. What didn't feel common, didn't feel right, was the sudden urge to corrupt that blush, make it spread down Richie's neck again. He wanted to fuck Richie up, like he had that night, make Richie's eyes go glassy as he came all over himself. 

Richie had to know. He had to. They didn't get as close as they used to, but there was no way Richie didn't know how hard for him Eddie got every night, or that Eddie always pulled away so fast because he needed to fuck the wet clench of his fist. 

One night, in a fit of desperation, Eddie pulled over to the side of the road on his way out of the city. He needed one night to relax with his best friend, one night where he wasn't left keyed-up and wanting. 

It had been hard to get off in his car, suit pants barely slid down his hips. His anxiety was on high alert, worried about cops and onlookers and suspicious stains. As if to make up for it, his fantasies only got filthier, until Eddie came into his fist while tongue fucking the other. His mind spiraled, paired with the slick slide of his skin, until it settled on Richie's ass spread for him, rim fluttering around the tip of Eddie's tongue. 

Eddie sat alone in the dark for half an hour trying to recover from that orgasm and he still got hard when Richie pressed a kiss to his temple two hours later. 

So, yes, Eddie was not handling the sexual tension as well as he had expected. Still, the dam held, and as long as Eddie had money to buy lube, he was pretty sure he was going to get through this.

Mornings were supposed to be the easiest part of Eddie's day, a sharp contrast to his life with Myra. He would wake up, take care of his inevitable morning wood, and take the rest of his frustration out on the paved roads of their neighborhood. By the time he was showered and dressed for work, Richie would stumble his way out of bed to join him for breakfast. It was practically the only time Eddie had with Richie where he felt like himself again, not a horny feral animal. 

Filled with something that felt a lot like peace, Eddie thought that this was what he had been missing all those years. Sure, he had missed the bickering and the chemistry and being known inside and out, but this… This was what marriage was supposed to be like. 

Eddie hid the beginnings of a blush behind his coffee cup as Richie made his way into the breakfast nook. 

"'Morning," Richie said as he slumped into his chair. His voice was still raspy with sleep and Eddie shivered at the sound. He was tired out, not dead. 

"Good morning," Eddie mumbled into ceramic. 

Breakfast that morning started as a quiet affair, growing louder as Richie began to wake up. Eddie watched him rouse by inches from across the table, aware of the fond, goofy grin on his own face and doing nothing to stop it. Still asleep, Richie nibbled on fruit until he could trust himself not to choke on bacon, and then to use a knife and fork. When he was finally awake, Richie drained the last of his orange juice and then narrowed his eyes at Eddie. 

"Weren't you supposed to be at work like half an hour ago?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I've told you like three times this week that it's a bank holiday." 

"Oh, is that why?" At Eddie's laughter, Richie made protesting noises. "How was I supposed to know? You don't work at a bank!" 

"You're such a dipshit," Eddie said, and didn't even cringe when it came out as an endearment. "What do you want to do today?" 

Richie winced. "Okay, sorry, I didn't actually plan for you being home today. I'm supposed to go into the office this morning. Steve wants to talk about the hiring process for the new writing team, and-- No, you know what? I'll call him. It can wait." 

A frown found its way to Eddie's face. When he wished for their relationship to be the opposite of what he had with Myra, this wasn't what he meant. 

"Rich, you've been talking to me about this team for weeks. You are absolutely not rescheduling this meeting. I've lived here for almost two months now, I can handle a few hours alone."

"Are you sure?" Richie asked, squinting. Eddie, who always appreciated a glassesless, bleary-eyed Richie, couldn't help but soften a little. 

"Of course I'm sure," Eddie said. "Seriously, asshole, I know you're just trying to get out of going to work for once. If you call him, I'm gonna kick your ass." 

Richie grinned and stood up from the table, leaning across the space to peck Eddie on the forehead. One of his arms wrapped its way across Eddie's waist, and in the soft morning light, Eddie felt safe and protected. 

"Thanks, Spaghetti," Richie said when he pulled away. He didn't go far, his eyesight only affording them a couple of inches if he wanted to make real eye contact. "You're the best." 

Eddie looked up at Richie, curly sleep-mussed hair tinged in the golden light framing him. His eyes, for once unmarred by the glare of his glasses, were a deep, dark brown. Sleep still crusted in the corner of them and, entranced, Eddie raised his hand to brush it away. 

Eddie's fingers lingered on Richie's cheekbone. 

The dam broke. 

It wasn't violent, like Eddie had imagined it would be. In his head it had all been animal attraction, Richie in Eddie's lap again, or Eddie leaping at Richie across the couch. He had never been optimistic enough to dream of this: Eddie leaning up into Richie, the slow, soft press of lips. 

Richie's hand gripped the back of Eddie's shirt when they both pulled away. Eddie could see the confusion in Richie's eyes, but it was hard to feel regret when pure joy pulsed through his veins like sunlight. He beamed up at Richie, heart thundering in his chest, and put both hands on Richie's waist. 

"Is this okay?" Eddie asked, because the last thing he wanted was a repeat of the last time. 

"'Course," Richie choked out. 

"Good. Come here, Tozier." Eddie tilted his chin up for a kiss. 

With his other arm sliding around the back of Eddie's chair for support, Richie leaned in. One kiss melted into another, the sweet, hot drag open mouths. Eddie let Richie take the lead, willing to cede control this once. For all his sudden surety, Eddie felt out of practice and insecure-- What if Richie didn't like kissing him? It seemed safer, somehow, to let Richie take what he wanted. 

The only problem with that was that Richie was so, so gentle. 

It was beautiful, the way that Richie kissed him. Richie sipped at Eddie's mouth in a lingering rhythm, humming against his bottom lip. Richie kissed like gin, a slow burn in Eddie's chest. His heart shook with it, thumping out of time. His blood felt like hot molasses. It was so, so good, but Eddie wanted more.

He made a small complaining noise into Richie's mouth. Feeling Richie begin to pull away, Eddie slid a hand up to tuck around the back of Richie's neck. Keeping him close, Eddie shifted and licked into Richie's mouth with a deliberateness that surprised even him.

The vibrations of Richie's groan made Eddie's skin go supernova, flashing hotter than ever, and all that heat hit him like a rocket to the stomach. Suddenly, everything was that much filthier, and Richie was scrambling onto Eddie's lap. His long limbs struggled to fit into a chair with another grown man.

Eddie lost himself in the kiss, his brain narrowing to pinpoints of focus. His entire universe was the desperate weight of Richie on top of him, the scratch of Richie's stubble against his freshly shaven skin, the press and slide of their tongues. 

A pleasant ache settled into Eddie's jaw and he pulled away with a gentle laugh. "You can't miss your meeting," he said, a grin stuck on his face. Richie didn't seem to register the words, staring down at Eddie with something akin to wonder in his eyes. Eddie pushed an unruly curl back from Richie's forehead. "What is it?" 

Richie shook his head. "I didn't think you would be okay with, uh…" He trailed off, awkward. 

"With making out?" Eddie continued, snorting. Richie was blushing like a teenager, and that strange pride settled back into Eddie's chest. It and the warm confidence it brought with it were becoming addicting. "I wasn't," Eddie admitted, "but I've been thinking about it and… I don't know about you, but it might be easier to wait if we work off a little steam sometimes, don't you?" 

Furrowing his brow, Richie frowned. "So you kissed me because…" 

"Because I wanted to, Rich," Eddie said. "There's a lot of stuff I want to do with you, constantly, and it will be easier for me if I have a little of it. If that's okay with you." 

Richie's face cleared, and he smiled down at Eddie, rolling his hips teasingly on Eddie's lap-- But, Eddie noted with relief, without any real intent. "I'm definitely okay with it, Eddie Spaghetti, but I have to admit I didn't think I'd get kissed for making you horny." 

Eddie scowled and pinched at Richie's soft stomach, sending Richie wiggling back and knocking into the table behind him. At the clash of ceramic and metal, they both giggled. Eddie tried to school his expression back into the stern disapproval he'd tried so hard to master. "And you won't, in the future," he told Richie, who only grinned back, undeterred. "Kissing is for adults who behave themselves." 

"Oh, yeah, sure," Richie said, not sounding convinced at all. "I can kiss you when I'm horny, though, right?" 

"You can kiss me whenever you want," Eddie promised. Richie's eyes flicked back down to Eddie's mouth, and Eddie met him halfway for another soft, chaste kiss. 

Not letting it go further, Eddie pushed Richie back with a firm hand to his chest. Richie groaned. "Come on, Eds, I got a lot of kissing to make up for!" 

"I'm serious about you going into the office today," Eddie said. When it looked like Richie might protest, Eddie interrupted, continuing, "Look, I get it. We've been waiting a long time. But your career is important to you, and we... " Eddie cupped Richie's cheek with one hand. "We have forever, Rich." 

Richie closed his eyes. "God, I fucking love you." No matter how many times he said it, Eddie was sure he would never get used to it. Even now it hit him in the stomach, and he sucked a hiss through his teeth. Richie kissed him on the forehead, and unspooled himself from Eddie's breakfast chair. "Fine, I'll go to the office. Promise me you'll be here when I get home?" 

"Where else would I go, dumbass?" Eddie asked, laughing. "I live here. Now go take a fucking shower." 

With a bright grin, Richie bounded out of the kitchen, as if the faster he showered, the faster he could be back into Eddie's arms. Eddie shivered, and the pride grew. 

Afterwards, Eddie's libido was both better and worse. His fantasies were easier to control, at least, and his nights were no longer filled with staring at Richie's hands and yearning. Eddie still had to masturbate a ridiculous amount, but afterwards he actually felt better instead of only adding another layer of dissatisfaction. The only real problem was that it got harder and harder to pull away at the end of the night, instead of following Richie to his bed.

Every time Richie walked away from him, all Eddie could think about was how badly he wanted their relationship to begin. For real, this time. He wanted to call Richie his boyfriend and go to sleep in his arms. He wanted everyone in LA to know that he and Richie belonged to each other. Hell, he wanted everyone in the world to know, from Myra to everyone who had ever hurt Richie. 

The divorce was going slower than Eddie had hoped, though. He'd had the papers served to Myra after he'd left New York, and she had waited until her month was almost over to finally file an answer. Myra had contested his terms, of course, even though Eddie had been more than generous-- He was pretty sure she was only doing it to spite him, but his lawyers told him it was normal enough. 

The wait was starting to get to him. Not in the way it had before, where Eddie thought that he could not wait another moment, but in a sadder way. Why should I wait? Eddie found himself thinking, maybe I won't. Of course, the moment he decided that, the same guilt and fear bubbled up within him. How could he think of being happy when he was doing this to someone as fragile as Myra? How could he live with himself if he did? How could Richie? Eddie knew the statistics of relationships that were born of infidelity; He was risking their future enough as it was. 

Besides, he thought, he deserved this. Or Richie deserved this, whichever. Eddie needed to prove that he could do this for more than the sex-- After all, wasn't that what a good relationship looked like? A foundation of trust? 

A foundation of trust and kissing whenever possible, Eddie decided days later. 

Richie had taken Eddie up on the promise to let Richie kiss him whenever he felt like it. There were more soft morning kisses, of course, and hellos and goodbyes and goodnights. Richie kissed him as a thank you for doing the dishes, as an invitation to cuddle, as a distraction from the news. Eddie had been kissed more in the last week than in the last five years of his marriage, and it was going to his head in the best way possible. 

He was a happier person, generally. Sometimes he could feel himself floating instead of walking, like Richie had attached a string to the top of his soul and it was pulling him gently into the sky. Eddie found that he liked controlling the kiss as much as he liked lying there and letting Richie do all the work-- Both ways made him feel sexy in a way he had never felt before. He'd felt horny before, sure, but never desired in a way that made it mean anything. 

Richie gave that to him, and it mixed with that flicker of pride in his chest until it turned into something that felt a lot like power. Even when he was ostensibly at Richie's mercy, Eddie felt powerful. It was a heady, addicting feeling. 

That was why he didn't complain when Richie pinned him against the kitchen counter instead of helping him do the dishes one night after dinner. Richie kissed him like he was dying for it, all tongue and teeth and no finesse. 

Eddie gripped the hair at the nape of Richie's neck and pulled him back far enough to make eye contact. Richie was almost vibrating against him. "Eager, are we?" Eddie said, smirking. He was acting more unimpressed than he actually was, half of his brain thinking of nothing other than the sloppy mess Richie had already made of his own mouth. 

Struggling against the pain, Richie's eyes fluttered shut. He was testing his boundaries, wanting Eddie to pull his hair a little harder more than wanting to actually get away. Eddie didn't give him an inch either way, only watched him with blown out eyes.

"I was thinking about you all day," Richie admitted, still squirming in Eddie's grasp. "I was supposed to be interviewing joke babysitters and I was thinking about you and your dick in your gray sweatpants and I come home and you're already fucking wearing them--" 

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie was yanking him back down, desperate to reward him for his honesty. In the past weeks, they had built a rhythm together and, with that, a certain level of technique. Eddie hadn't exactly been the most experienced kisser, but he had learned what Richie liked. Richie had let Eddie experiment, his own touch always gentle, even when he had Eddie underneath him. 

That was all gone tonight. 

Richie's hands were tight on Eddie's hips, the beginnings of a bruise blooming underneath them. Eddie thrived under the pain, arching into Richie's fingers as he nipped at Richie's bottom lip. 

Pressing closer, Richie licked his way back into Eddie's mouth. He stroked Eddie's tongue with his own, luring Eddie into letting Richie suck at him greedily. That had been a completely new experience for Eddie, something that still left him shivering at how shameless it felt. Luckily, Richie loved it, and would do it forever if Eddie let him. 

God, Eddie thought as he pulled back to gasp for air, his baby needed his mouth full all the damn time. 

Eddie tilted Richie's head the way he wanted it, sliding his tongue up against Richie's palate as he kissed him. Richie moaned, his hands sliding to squeeze roughly at Eddie's ass. Eddie rocked forward into Richie on instinct at the jolt of surprised pleasure, and broke away from the kiss with a groan. 

"Fuck," Eddie choked out. His arms fell around Richie's shoulders and he pulled himself against Richie's chest, burying his face against warm cotton. Richie's hands pulled their hips flush together, and Eddie felt Richie's dick against his stomach, the thick pulsing width of him. He rolled his hips desperately, mouth watering, overwhelmed. "God, Richie, this is such a bad idea." 

Richie laughed roughly in his ears and slid his thigh between Eddie's legs, giving him something to buck against. "Yeah?" Richie said. "You want me to stop?" 

Eddie whimpered and shook his head, face still pressed into Richie's shoulder. "No," he finally said, although it was more than obvious with the way he was riding Richie's thigh . In all his days here with Richie, hazy with lust, he'd never gotten off so quickly. Eddie felt drunk, out of control, and it felt so fucking good. 

One of Richie's hands stroked Eddie's back. It was supposed to be a soothing gesture, but even that simple touch had Eddie's blood boiling. He had craved Richie's hands on him, and the reality of them, broad and rough, was driving him crazy. 

"How do you want to come?" Richie asked, and the question alone had Eddie's underwear tacky with precum. He whined, high in the back of his throat, and felt Richie kiss the crown of his head. 

Huffing against Richie's neck, Eddie tried to catch his breath. His thoughts were everywhere, scattered to the wind, and forming words were hard. Even harder was remembering what he had promised himself. He grunted, then groaned out, "Can't have sex, Richie." 

"Hate to break it to you, Eddie baby, but that's what we're doing." Richie was laughing as he said it, but that didn't stop his hands from guiding the wild grind of Eddie's hips. 

"No." Eddie shook his head, nose pressing into Richie's skin. "It's fine, I'll -- I'll come like this, like you did, and it'll--" 

Richie took a step back, leaving Eddie to cry out as the delicious friction stopped and his body went cold. "Hold on, I've got a better idea. I'll jerk you off, quick and easy." 

Eddie clung to the counter and blinked up at Richie, trying to figure out if that was okay or not. The lines had already been so blurred, and he couldn't remember the logic behind the lines he had drawn. "I don't-- It's--" 

"It's not sex," Richie said in a rush. "Not even a real handjob. I'll jerk you off, like buddies do." 

Even through the thick fog of need, a laugh cracked its way out of Eddie's chest. "Like buddies do?" he repeated, loud and unbelieving. 

"Yeah," Richie said, grinning, wide and lopsided. "I've seen frat boy porn." 

There shouldn't have been anything sexy about Richie's shiteating grin, the same one he wore when he was teasing the Losers until they had no choice but to retaliate. If anything, it was the familiarity of the expression that had Eddie's resolve melting. This was his Richie, the Richie he had fallen in love with, and Eddie was as whipped as they all teased Richie for being. 

Nodding, Eddie reached out to bunch a hand in the front of Richie's shirt. "Yeah, what the fuck ever, Rich. Just get over here and let me kiss you, asshole." 

"Now that doesn't sound very friendly at all, Eds," Richie said, but he followed Eddie's direction, anyway. 

Rolling his eyes, Eddie pulled Richie down for another long,wet kiss. Richie's hands pressed him back against the counter, the sharp corner of the granite cutting into his back. Eddie was beyond caring about anything but Richie's mouth and hands, the one-two punch of slick, soft heat and the rough drag of calloused skin. 

Richie shoved Eddie's hoodie up with one hand as they kissed, palming at Eddie's abs. Eddie chuckled, smug, into the kiss, and not even Richie's sharp answering bite to his bottom lip could stop that flicker of pride. It felt so fucking good to have Richie want him. 

With one hand stroking Eddie's stomach, Richie's other hand drifted down to the exposed skin over the waistband of Eddie's sweatpants. Richie went no further, instead making circular patterns that only just dipped below with the tips of his fingers. Eddie fisted one hand back in Richie's curls and yanked, a clear punishment. 

"Stop being a fucking tease," he hissed into the kiss, Richie licking the syllables off his teeth. 

Riche laughed and pinched at Eddie's side, his grin only growing when Eddie yelped and smacked him in the shoulder. "Like you haven't been a constant fucking cocktease since Derry," he said, and Eddie flushed. He hadn't thought of himself like that-- Sure, he knew Richie wanted him, and that they couldn't, not yet, but… Putting it like that made it sound like Eddie was doing it on purpose, like his whole plan had been to drive Richie mad the entire time. 

Eddie knew he should be offended, probably, but it was actually kinda… hot. 

Not that he could ever let Richie know that. 

"Like you don't fucking love it," Eddie shot back. "Nothing gets you hotter than being told to make that overeager dick of yours behave, does it?" 

Richie's eyes darted down to the obvious tent in Eddie's pants and (Finally, Eddie thought dizzily) he palmed it roughly through the fabric with one big hand. "I can think of a few things," he said, voice pitched low. 

Eddie's eyes shut, trying to maintain his dignity and not have it all end with a little heavy petting. "Richie," he said, in his best, sternest voice. "If you don't jerk me off right now, I am going to make you fucking cry." 

"God, fuck--" Richie buried his face in Eddie's neck, his hips fucking uselessly into the air. Eddie could have felt a shock of sympathy for him if his mouth wasn't watering, thinking about the big, thick cock he still hadn't gotten his hands on. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Spaghetti." 

Despite his words, Richie pulled back far enough to spit into his hand. The sound was filthy and it went straight to Eddie's dick, made him want to force Richie to his knees and cut out the middle man. The worst part was knowing how much Richie would enjoy it, holding Eddie's soft dick in his throat until Eddie could get hard again and Richie could keep playing with him. 

At that moment, it wasn't his morals that kept Eddie from following the fantasy. It was the frustration, the sheer lack of patience, that had him following the plan, letting Richie shove his hand down Eddie's pants. 

There was no finesse or teasing here, either, and Eddie wouldn't have wanted it if Richie had given it to him. Richie's unfamiliar callouses alone, dry enough to make him feel the drag of their skin, were enough to get him off. The rhythm was sloppy, broken up by the way Eddie fucked up into Richie's grip. Eddie could hear himself begging for it, mouth open against Richie's in a perpetual gasp, but his brain couldn't register anything other the sweet pangs of lust in the pit of his stomach. 

He came like that, clutching at Richie's shoulders as Richie kissed at his open mouth. Richie's free arm was wrapped around his waist, holding him up as his knees went out, pulling him to Richie's chest as he shuddered through his orgasm. Richie milked him, small, squeezing strokes until Eddie was whining with the overstimulation. 

"Shh, baby," Richie said, his words muffled as Eddie tried to lick his way behind Richie's teeth. "I got you, I got you." 

Eddie spiraled back to the ground slowly, Richie gentling the kiss bit by bit, until they were standing in the kitchen, arms around each other, staring into each other's eyes. Eddie didn't know what to say, couldn't think of anything that wouldn't mean the end of the moment. Richie sighed and pressed their foreheads together. 

"How are you doing?" Richie asked, one of his big hands still stroking Eddie's back. Eddie closed his eyes, suddenly shy under the focus of Richie's shrewd brown eyes. 

"I'm not a fucking virgin," Eddie complained. He could still feel Richie's eyes on him like a physical touch, and he squirmed against it in Richie's arms. 

"Oh, trust me, I know," Richie chuckled, pressing a kiss to Eddie's forehead. "You say the dirtiest shit I've ever heard, and I love it." 

Groaning, Eddie pulled back to bury his face in Richie's collarbone, as if that could hide him from the teasing. Still, there was that thread of pleasure in having Richie's attention, the same as when he was a child. He needed to stop blushing, to have Richie think he was cool, but more than that he didn't want Richie to look away. He hid his smile in the fabric of Richie's shirt. 

"I … are you still okay? With the fact that we… did this?" Richie asked tentatively. Eddie rubbed his face against the soft fabric of Richie's t-shirt as he thought about the question. It should have been an easy question to answer, but it wasn't, and he felt all the more guilty for it. He had promised himself this wouldn't happen again, that he would behave himself. At least last time he could justify it in that he hadn't come, but this wasn't something he could ignore. 

Unless he could. 

"Just buds hanging out, right?" Eddie said, voice small. He felt Richie sigh, chest heaving under his cheek, and that only made him feel worse. He was disappointing two people, and he had no idea what the right thing to do was. 

"Of course, Eds," Richie said, smoothing Eddie's hair down. The understanding in his voice had guilt clogging Eddie's throat. "We were getting you caught up. We can go back to only kissing, if that's what you want." 

"What if I don't want to?" The words were out before Eddie even had the chance to think about them, bubbling out like Mentos and Coke. Richie's hands stilled, and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know what he was afraid of; The idea of Richie rejecting him now was ridiculous, but the paranoia still crept up on him. 

"I mean...." Richie rubbed his knuckles down the back of Eddie's neck, pressing kisses to the crown of Eddie's head. "You're the one in charge, man. I'm following your lead. Whatever you want, I'm down for. I know that you're not exactly comfortable with the romantic stuff. I don't want you to regret anything." 

Eddie nodded. "No, I-- I think we shouldn't… We shouldn't go all the way, definitely. That would be too far. But this doesn't--" Eddie steeled himself, squaring his shoulders, and pulled back to look Richie in the eyes. "This doesn't feel wrong to me. You?" 

Richie grinned, cupping Eddie's cheek in his hand. "Baby, this is the best I've ever felt in my entire life." 

Rolling his eyes, Eddie fought down his grin. "Okay, so… let's feel this out? If you're cool with that." 

"Feel it out, huh?" Richie's eyes were shining. "I got something I wanna feel." Eddie squeaked as Richie smacked his ass, the rough sting coming out of nowhere. He tore out of Richie's arms, yelling at the top of his lungs about how he was going to kick Richie's ass, an argument that fell apart when he saw Richie take one threatening step towards him. Eddie fled to the living room for ammo, Richie hot on his heels, and the night gentled. 

Later, Eddie dozed atop a pile of every pillow and cushion they owned, the casualties of war, and listened to Richie's heartbeat thumping against his ear. 

It wasn't exactly the strictly platonic light he had been planning, but something a little fairer. Richie deserved to be happy, too, after all. Not that Eddie assumed Richie's wildest dreams consisted of jerking him off in their kitchen, only to leave himself completely untouched. 

Eddie curled further into Richie's chest. Winging it. He could do that. 

The thing Eddie hadn't planned on, yet, was how anxious winging it made him. Sure, he had always liked to have a plan, but he'd never felt the need to plan an orgasm before. He never planned to masturbate, it just became a routine, one he'd never had a reason to break it. But now Eddie felt like he was on edge, waiting for any sign that Richie wanted him, that their next encounter was coming. 

It wasn't like the frustrated lust he'd felt before, that fire burning in the pit of his stomach. This was a lighter, more nervous irritation, one that had him bouncing his legs and tapping his fingers. Even cuddling was a fidgety affair, now, and although Richie had kissed him quiet, nothing more had come of it. 

After a week of waiting, Eddie decided that Richie had given up his right to make the first move, and began to plan his grand seduction. Nothing major, of course; He needed to control himself. He was still a married man. But if they were trial running their relationship, it wouldn't do them any good to sit around. You didn't take a new car for a test drive to sit in the parking lot. 

The only problem was, Eddie had no idea what to do. The idea of actually initiating sex was completely foreign to him. They had seemed to stumble into it, pushing each other further and further until they couldn't turn back. And with Myra… Well, Eddie had found that he was more inclined to think of reasons to put a stop to the entire idea. 

Porn was no help at all, of course. The things that weren't completely embarrassing were borderline assault, and Eddie had found himself closing the tabs in disgust. The last thing he wanted was to trick Richie into having sex with him, and the only other option the usual suspects gave him were simply throwing himself at Richie and begging to fuck him. 

Eddie wasn't ready for that on any level. It felt like a bridge too far, for a demo version of a relationship. Right? 

So he turned to more realistic avenues, hoarding links to forum boards and news articles. Although Eddie was sure that at least half of them were still based in fantasy, they at least felt human. It was better than trying to measure up to the stunning script work of men.com. They had a lot of non-penetrative ideas, some of them simple, some of them borderline body horror. 

Eddie decided to keep it simple. He considered trying to casually suggest that Richie join him for his usual bedtime masturbation session. The mere idea of watching Richie get himself off had Eddie's stomach clenching and his blood roaring in his ears. The more he thought about it though, the more it didn't seem like… enough. 

If Eddie was testing out being Richie's boyfriend, he was being a fucking awful one. Richie had been doing all the work, and Eddie had stood around and had a good panic about it. No, Richie deserved more than the set-up to any porno about 'straight bros'. Richie deserved effort, and care, and… And, God, Eddie wanted to get his hands on that dick. 

The only question left was the hell he would bring it up. 

There was no real advice about that, in the end. Consent was essential, but Eddie was pretty sure Richie had given him blanket permission for anything Eddie was comfortable doing. He'd ask again, to be sure, but there had to be something other than that. Something to lead up to it, something other than sitting Richie down and asking, "please, Rich, can I jerk you off?" 

'You'll know,' all the articles said. 'Wait until you're ready, and you'll know when the time is right.' 

Well, Eddie didn't know, and he was pretty sure that waiting around until he was completely ready would have them both dead in the ground first. If he couldn't wait for his divorce to go through, then he couldn't wait for his anxiety to cure itself, either. He wanted to do this right. So, he thought, he was going to have to stop feeling sorry for himself and fucking do it. 

"God, what's gotten into you tonight, hellcat?" Richie said later that night. Eddie could barely make out the words through Richie's groan, but he nipped at the skin under his mouth in retaliation, anyway. Richie's neck was already littered with hickies, the product of Eddie making his way down to Richie's collarbone. 

Eddie pulled back long enough to ask, breathless, "You want me to stop?" 

Richie laughed, shaking his head. "No, of course not, I just don't--" Eddie started a fresh bruise on the top of Richie's shoulder, making eye contact the entire time. "Fuck, get up here and kiss me, asshole," Richie said, tugging Eddie up. 

Settling back over Richie's hips as they kissed, Eddie noted that Richie was hard underneath him. God, every time Richie's cock made an appearance, it was like Eddie had forgotten how big it had seemed the last time. Every fucking time it felt like the air was being knocked out of his lungs with lust. Eddie suppressed the urge to grind against the firm bulge in Richie's jeans, and mostly succeeded-- He couldn't resist rolling his hips to rub their cocks together once or twice. 

Richie whined into the kiss, and Eddie couldn't help but grin. It made the kiss sloppy and sharp, which only had Eddie's own cock throbbing in his pants. It was time, Eddie decided. His heart thundered in his chest, but it was a good adrenaline, like running down the streets of Derry with Bill in a world that Death had never touched. The pride in his chest roared to life once again. 

Breaking the kiss, Eddie moved back to straddle Richie's knees. Richie frowned and reached out for him, but Eddie knocked his hands out of the way to lean down for a better look at his real prize-- Richie's perfect, perfect cock. 

Even tucked away like this it looked thick in the way that had Eddie's dick pulsing in sympathy. The very little porn watching Eddie had done while with Myra had always left him confused why someone would call a dick 'fat', but suddenly, Eddie got it. Richie had a fat, beautiful cock, and Eddie was desperate to see it. 

Eddie dragged his knuckles up the clothed line of Richie's cock, shivering when it twitched under the back of his hand. Richie hissed, his hips jerking away from Eddie's touch. 

"Eds," Richie croaked out, "Come on." 

Eddie squinted up at him, frowning. "What?" he said, voice full of disbelief to hide the fear. "You don't want me to jerk you off?" 

Richie stilled, blinking at Eddie as if he'd had no idea that was on the table. "Of course I do. I just don't want to regret it in the morning."

Softening, Eddie leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Richie's mouth, his hand flipping over to cup Richie's dick. He smiled as Richie hummed into his mouth, and couldn't resist letting the kiss linger. "I promise I won't," Eddie said, softly. "I want to feel you so fucking bad."

"Yeah?" Eddie watched Richie's eyes start to darken, pupils expanding. "How bad you want it, Eds?" A shiver ran down Eddie's spine at the intent in Richie's voice, a clear declaration that if Eddie wanted this, he was going to have to go all in. 

"So fucking bad," Eddie answered. He flushed, his words feeling awkward and unsexy on his tongue. Eddie was better at this when they had been working each other up for hours, like when the rest of his brain turned off, the part that let him talk Richie to orgasm finally turned on. Still, Richie was waiting, and Eddie had promised himself he would give Richie anything he wanted. "I keep thinking about it, Rich. You're big, aren't you, baby? I've seen it." 

Richie huffed, grinding his hips up into Eddie's hand. Smirking, Eddie finally started to rub Richie through his jeans as Richie said, "I've been telling you that for years, Eds." It sounded like it had been a joke in Richie's head, but tumbled out broken and desperate. 

"Yeah, I guess you did, huh," Eddie hummed. He rubbed the heel of his hand over the head of Richie's cock until Richie was squirming underneath him. "Didn't tell me how overeager it was, though, did you?" Richie made a noise in the back of his throat, part confusion and part lust, and Eddie laughed. "Baby, all it took to make you come last time was sitting on my lap with my hands in your hair. I'm not stupid. You're kinda slutty, aren't you, Rich?" 

With a strangled groan, Richie said, "Yeah, Eds, fuck--" His words broke off with a gasp when Eddie gave him an encouraging squeeze. Positive reinforcement, Eddie thought with a wicked grin. "I get so fucking hard for you, all the fucking time. You know that." 

Never one to let a victory go without celebration, Eddie continued, "Can't wait to feel you in my hands. 'Cause I'm gonna have to use two, won't I? Fuck yeah, I can already tell I will. I was gonna get you wet in my mouth, baby, but I don't think you'll fit." 

Richie's head fell back against the arm of the couch, and he stared up at the ceiling, unseeing, as he gasped. "Jesus fucking Christ, my boyfriend's been replaced with a fucking sex demon. What the fuck, Eds. Please take me out, baby. Please." 

Pride roared to life in Eddie's chest. Only he could make Richie beg like this, only he could make Richie forget how that his satisfaction didn't lie solely in Eddie's hands. Eddie would take mercy on him soon, but he had to tease a little bit more. "Are you wet for me, Rich? I bet you are. I bet that fat cock of yours has been drooling all over you. God," Eddie said, forgetting himself. "I want to see it so bad." 

"Eddie," Richie begged. "Please." 

Eddie was careful but efficient as he stripped Richie of his jeans. He was shaking underneath Eddie's touch, and Eddie had no doubt that Richie's dick was aching. Eddie could see it, after all, looking even bigger in nothing but Richie's boxers, and there was a dark grey spot, tacky with Richie's precum. Hands shaking, Eddie rubbed his thumb through the wet, sending Richie moaning underneath him. It should have been gross. Eddie leaned back and sucked the excess off his thumb.

"Fuck, Eds." 

"Shush, baby," Eddie scolded . Eddie sat back on his feet, pulling Richie's legs up on either side of him until they were open around his hips. Greedy, Richie hooked his legs around Eddie's waist and pulled himself down the couch with his legs, shirt riding up. Eddie sighed and stroked soothing circles on Richie's exposed skin with his fingertips, scratching idly through his wiry hair there. 

"Slut," Eddie said, fondly. 

That was enough teasing for now, though, Eddie decided. Richie had started to go a little glassy in the eyes, and Eddie wanted Richie to be present for this. Sure, it was hot as hell when Richie lost his mind and started fucking against Eddie like he'd die if he didn't have it, but Eddie wanted to be the one giving it to him. 

Eddie leaned down as he pulled Richie's boxers down his hips, peppering kisses over Richie's lower stomach, but it wasn't enough distraction to keep Richie from moaning when his cock sprung free of his boxers. Well, sprung wasn't quite the right word. Richie was too long for that, too thick-- Eddie had read about men with cocks so big they couldn't get fully erect, but he had never actually seen one. 

"Oh, baby," Eddie crooned, lowering himself to get a good look. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Richie or the cock itself, but at this point it didn't matter. He was in love with both of them. He curled his hand around the base and lifted it, to feel the heft of it. "Fuck. Look at you." 

"You gonna jerk it off or talk to it, Eds?" Richie said. His grumpiness was offset by the threadiness of his words, the way his muscles shivered under Eddie's free hand. Still, Eddie pinched at the soft flesh of his lower belly. 

"Don't be a brat, Rich," Eddie said, "or I won't give you anything to suck on when you come." 

Richie went quiet. 

"Good boy," Eddie said, pride crackling through his lungs. He returned his attention to Richie's dick, where it was twitching valiantly in his hand. "God, you're such a good boy, Richie. Still trying to get harder for me when you're dripping all over yourself like that." Even as Eddie talked, a bead of precum rolled down the fat mushroom head of Richie's cock. 

"Still," Eddie sighed, squeezing the base. Richie sobbed, a cracked groan running through it. "It's a good thing you like to be on your knees so much, honey. No one could take a dick like this, even if you could get it up… And if they did, you'd only come all over them, wouldn't you?" Richie was whining nonsense, vague agreements and pleas, and Eddie smiled. He never would have gone with this kind of play if he hadn't thought Richie would be into it, but he couldn't deny the way he, too, was fuck so fucking wet he could barely stand to be clothed.

"Open up, baby," Eddie said, and pressed three fingers to Richie's lips. "Get 'em wet for me." 

Richie obeyed, sucking the fingers into his mouth, but his eyes were wary. 

"Don't worry, we're not going that far. I'd get your cock wet myself, but I thought you deserved a little treat." Eddie grinned as Richie hummed around his fingers, curling them against Richie's tongue. Richie's eyes fluttered shut, and Eddie felt his tongue work as Richie got Eddie's fingers sopping wet.

All too soon, Eddie had to pull out of that blissful wet heat, leaving Richie whining, mouth empty. Eddie hushed him, pressing the scolding into the inside of Richie's knee, and took Richie's big, swollen cock in hand.

Spreading the wetness of Richie's precum and spit, Eddie began to leisurely jack Richie off. The pace was too slow, Eddie knew, but he wanted to make Richie work for it at least a little-- God forbid he get spoiled. Eddie would never be able to live with him, then.

"Eds," Richie said, voice breaking. "Eddie, please, more. Please?" Richie's hips flexed upwards, fucking his hips in and out of the wet circle of Eddie's fingers. Still pressing kisses to Richie's thighs, Eddie sped up, but Richie's dick proved too unwieldy for Eddie to get a good rhythm going.

Eddie sighed, glancing up at Richie. He could feel a blush start to work its way up his neck, the red mark of his own desperation. Eddie had to wonder if Richie could tell how much Eddie wanted him, despite his words, or if Richie was already too far gone. Either way, Eddie collected his saliva into the curl of his tongue, spitting it into his free hand.

"See, baby," Eddie said as he started to work the hand up and down Richie's base, the other twisting around his head, keeping everything sloppy with Richie's precum. "I told you we'd need more than one hand. Fuck, I might even need two when I blow you."

Richie keened, a vulnerable sound high in the back of his throat. Eddie could feel his eyebrows raise in surprise. Richie was crying again, already, the tears making trails down his cheeks. His heels dug into Eddie's back, using the friction to leverage his hips further up, letting him fuck harder and harder into Eddie's hands, but everything from the waist up seemed completely offline. Richie's head rocked back and forth, like a man in the midst of a dream--

Eddie bit his lip. He didn't think Richie wanted to stop, but....

"Richie, baby? How are you feeling?" He felt a little guilt. Eddie had read about safewords, but he hadn't planned on needing them yet. Apparently, that was a conversation they needed to have sooner rather than later, especially if Richie was always going to go this wild. "Do you want me to stop?"

A sob broke from Richie's throat, and the rock of his head increased, culminating in something that finally actually looked like a 'no'. "Please don't stop, Eddie, I'm so fucking close." The words sounded like it actually hurt Richie to say them, and Eddie couldn't help but be amazed at how much Richie felt during sex. They'd only been together a handful of times, and everytime Richie had gotten off, he seemed to completely lose himself in it.

It was the sexiest thing Eddie had ever seen.

"Okay, okay, sweetheart. I won't stop. I've got you, baby." Eddie continued to leave open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of Richie's thighs as he jerked him off, muttering words into his skin. Eddie wasn't even sure if Richie could hear him, but Eddie could admit that the dirty talk was starting to be as much for him as it was Richie. "You can come, Rich, I know you can. You've been such a good boy for me and now I need you to come all over yourself, okay?"

Richie hiccuped, his entire body shuddering as he breathed through the tears. "You said--" Richie seemed to be fighting the fog of his own lust to get the words out. Eddie could see him trying to put the words together. "You said I could have something in my mouth if I was good," Richie said, the edge of a pout audible.

Eddie laughed, pressing one last kiss to Richie's thigh.

"You're right, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. You've been such a good boy; You deserve a treat." Eddie sat up and pulled Richie's thighs tighter around his waist, so they were pressed together. If Eddie wanted to, he could have leaned down and kissed his way back to Richie's greedy tongue, but Eddie knew Richie needed something more. He asked, "If I give you my fingers again, will you be able to cum with one hand?" 

Richie was erect, hard and leaking in Eddie's hand, but he wasn't standing as firm as Eddie usually got on the brink of orgasm-- Eddie wasn't even sure if Richie could get completely erect. His research said that some men of Richie's size required oral stimulation, while more didn't need to have an erection at all to achieve an orgasm. Eddie added the question to his mental list of things to talk about with Richie when they were both less desperate-- Safewords, then Eddie's unsurprising anatomical fascination with Richie's cock. 

Eddie forced his brain to pay attention to the un-scientific part of that obsession, for the moment. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm close, Eds, please let me have them, please--" Richie's words descended into babbling, silenced by three of Eddie's fingers curling into his mouth. He moaned around them, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of his own precum on Eddie's fingers. 

"There you go, baby," Eddie said as he began to jack Richie again, focusing on the head with rough, twisting strokes. Richie's hips couldn't keep up, wiggling against the bulge still trapped in Eddie's own jeans. Fuck, Eddie thought as Richie rolled against him, he'd almost forgotten about his own cock. His own lust had faded into the background, a kind of constant that he had adapted to, like the hum of the refrigerator. Taking care of Richie had seemed much more important. Now that he had remembered, it took everything Eddie had not angle his hips just so and fuck up against the curve of Richie's ass. 

Unwilling to give into the urge until Richie himself had come, Eddie vented his frustration in the tried and practiced method of running his mouth. "Goddamn it, Rich, I can't wait to fuck you." Richie made a frantic noise, high in the back of his throat, and Eddie's heart jumped when he felt it in the tips of his fingers. "Look at how pretty you are, honey, all spread out for me. I bet you'll look even better on my cock. You're already so slutty for it, and you haven't even had it inside you yet. You're gonna come apart when I fuck you, and I can't fucking wait to put you back together again." 

With one last slide of Eddie's thumb over Richie's slit, Richie was coming, his cum splattering up Eddie's wrist as Richie chased his orgasm. Eddie could feel the low grunts vibrate down Richie's tongue as the waves of pleasure overtook him, and Eddie stroked him through it, his own voice gentling into a low, senseless murmur. He only stopped when Richie's hips stopped riding the rhythm, instead falling back to the couch and the cradle of Eddie's knees. Even Richie's hands, which had grabbed at Eddie's clothes, were now limp. 

For a moment, Richie was still, and Eddie patted his hip absently. He had expected this, too-- Richie had already shown a need for care after orgasm, and Eddie had prepared a mental checklist of things that Richie might want after a few more precious moments suckling on Eddie's fingers. 

The internet had been especially helpful for that question. 

What it hadn't prepared him for was Richie sitting up, dislodging Eddie's fingers from his mouth. Richie pressed his face into the curve of Eddie's shoulder, the bulk of him like a dead weight on Eddie's chest. Eddie's hands flew up to press, open palmed and placating, to either side of Richie's spine on instinct, but Richie wasn't looking for comfort. At least, his own wandering hands didn't seem to think so. 

As he slipped his (big, broad, Eddie thought) hands under Eddie's shirt, Richie groaned, "Eddie, Eds baby, please." He didn't elaborate, just dragged his face up Eddie's neck to kiss behind his ear. Richie's stubble was irritating in the mornings, a prickling sensation that Eddie could only put up with for so long, but as oversensitive and untouched as Eddie was, the slight pain had him gasping. 

"Greedy baby," Eddie laughed, still shivering as Richie's mouth worked his skin. "What is it? What do you need, sweetheart?" He dragged one hand up to clutch at Richie's curls. 

Richie tucked his reply into Eddie's jawline, wet and warm. "Let me put my mouth on you. Please? Please, god, I wanna taste you so bad." 

Eddie's brain stuttered to a halt like a car with a dead battery. "I… w-what?" 

Whining as if Eddie was being obtuse to fuck with him, Richie cupped Eddie's cock through his clothes. Eddie could feel the already wet fabric of his underwear rub against the head, and a shudder ran through him. "Let me suck you off?" Richie said, "I can't stop thinking about you in my throat. Please, Eds, I haven't even gotten to see it yet." 

Lust flashed through Eddie's veins like electricity, followed by guilt. He'd done his best to make the night all about Richie's needs, but he'd miscalculated, apparently. Richie needed to reciprocate to feel cared for, and Eddie… 

He wasn't even sure if he could. 

The guilt, the little voice in the back of his head that said, "You left her alone to rot so you could live in sin without worry, without stress, and you can't even do it right," was still there, even as he contorted every moral he had to get around it. It was easier to ignore when he was focusing on how he craved Richie's body, on how powerful it made him feel to watch Richie shake apart underneath him. Thinking about his own pleasure, however, made Eddie's stomach twist with nausea. 

"I don't think I can," Eddie said. He wound his arm around Richie's waist and pulled them flush together, needing the press of his soft warmth to soothe the frantic want that still itched across Eddie's skin. "It's fine when it's you, I love making you come so much, but I-- I don't know. Can't we just make you feel good?" 

Richie grinned, his teeth pressing blunt against the tendons of Eddie's neck. "We can stop if you want to, baby, that's cool, but I can promise you that nothing will ever make me feel better than your cock on my tongue." 

"Guh," Eddie replied. The pride pulsed in his chest, logic trampled by the caveman surety that it was only his dick that Richie craved like that. He'd never been this possessive of someone outside of Richie. As kids he had demanded all of Richie's attention, something that Richie had given, but now he wanted all of Richie's desires, too. He wanted to be the only thing Richie ever thought about. 

Which was fucked up, he knew that. Of course he did. The difference, his therapist had said, when Eddie was still struggling back in New York, between Eddie and his mother was that Eddie would never act on those feelings. You can't help your emotions, he said, in that neutral, purposefully cluttered room, but you can control how you react to them. 

The fact that Myra had never wanted Eddie only made it harder to ignore. Oh, she had needed him, needed to take care of him, needed a buffer between her and reality, but she had never wanted him. Fair enough, considering Eddie had never wanted her, either, but Eddie had spent a long time not being wanted. The proof of Richie's desire, still on their skin, was addicting. 

"Is it still cheating if my wife never did this?" Eddie asked aloud. Getting around his mental block was getting harder and harder on his own; He needed to start reaching out to his consultant. 

Pulling back enough to make eye contact, Richie frowned. "When was the last time you had a blow job?" 

It didn't take much thinking to answer. "Uh, never?" 

"I swear to god, once Mike invents a time machine I will go back in time to rectify that." Richie looked upset at the thought, and Eddie honestly didn't know if it was the principal of wanting your partner to experience the best or if Richie thought blowjobs were that essential. "For now, though, take your pants off." 

Eddie blustered, although he was already scrambling back to make room for his hands between their bodies. "I don't think I'm--" 

"Hey." Richie's voice was soft, and he caught Eddie's face between his hands. "I'll go slow, and if you ever want to tap out, let me know. We'll stop. We can watch a movie or something until you calm down, okay?" 

Heart beating out his chest, Eddie nodded. 

"Good." After one more soft kiss, they removed Eddie's pants, Richie tugging on the bottoms while Eddie tried to unbutton them. It would have gone faster if Eddie hadn't been laughing, using one hand to slap at Richie's arm,muttering 'wait two goddamn seconds, you fucking animal'. Eddie was a little grateful for the joke, and he could feel the tension draining from his shoulders already as Richie laughed along. 

When Richie pushed him onto his back, it didn't feel new-- This was another thing they did, now, bickering and giggling all the way. Besides, Eddie thought as Richie settled over him, this was the perfect position to admire how big Richie was, how his shoulders were twice the size of Eddie's own. Richie had planted his elbows on either side of Eddie's head, and Eddie couldn't help but reach out and curve his hands around the bulge of Richie's biceps, cupping the outside of Richie's arms. 

He's so strong, Eddie thought dizzily, so strong and so kind and mine mine mine. If anything, the last few months had proven that more than anything else ever could. Sure, it was easy to tell someone you loved them, or to beg someone to fuck you because they might like it, but waiting was harder. Waiting was fucking torture. 

Richie had waited for Eddie for thirty fucking years, and when Eddie said 'please, a little longer,' Richie had done it. He had sat there next to him on that couch and waited until Eddie said it was okay to touch him, to love him, and more than that, he had understood. 

I love him so fucking much, Eddie thought, but aloud he said, "Mine." 

Richie grinned down at him. "God, I am literally on top of you and you're still a toppy little shit." 

"I'm yours, too, you know." Eddie knew he was being kind of an ass, refusing to follow along with the light and breezy mood Richie was trying to create, but he was an ass for a lot of reasons. The least he could do was let Richie know how serious he was about this. "I always was." 

"God, Eddie," Richie said, voice strangled. He lowered himself, their chests pressed together, and Eddie arched up into it, relishing the feeling of Richie, soft and broad, against him. "You can't be romantic when I'm trying to go down on you." 

"I can be romantic whenever I want to, asshole--" Eddie said, frowning, but Richie cut him off with a kiss. He was being distracted, Eddie knew, as Richie deepened the kiss. But the longer it went, the longer Eddie didn't care anymore. He wanted to be held against Richie like this forever, his mouth sore and red from Richie's focused ministrations. 

Richie licked and sucked his way down Eddie's neck and chest, nuzzling at the red splotches of Eddie's blush. He couldn't stop moaning, even though he desperately wanted to. This was the kind of thing people learned to do when they were in college or something, Eddie thought, because every time he tried to repress a noise it only came out higher, turning into a whine when Richie's teeth nipped at his skin. Eddie tried to remember a time when anything had ever felt this good before, but all he could think about was Richie's hands on his hips, keeping them pinned to the couch as Richie swirled his tongue into Eddie's belly button. Disgusting, Eddie thought, even as he keened, the muscles under Richie's mouth clenching. 

"Who's the slut now?" Richie's eyes glittered when he looked up at Eddie, a smirk pressed against Eddie's lower abdomen. Eddie tightened his grip on Richie's hair, pulling until Richie's eyes went unfocused and a low groan escaped him. 

"Still you," Eddie said. "You wanna stop being a brat and suck my dick?" 

Richie shuddered and pressed his face into Eddie's stomach, his hot breath sending waves of lust straight to Eddie's dick. He was so fucking close to having all that wet heat exactly where he wanted it, but the very idea of his dick down Richie's throat was already making him nervous. 

"Are you going to let me, Eds?" Richie said, his voice shaking like being told no would physically end him. 

"I don't know," Eddie said. He ran his fingers through Richie's hair nonchalantly, like petting a cat. "Do you think you earned it?" 

Eddie could feel Richie hesitate under his hands, and knew that Richie was trying to figure out what would be more fun. Obviously Richie had been so good for him, but what would Richie like more, Eddie thought, getting his reward or pretending he still needed to earn it? 

Eventually, Richie lifted his face enough to make eye contact. "If I can make you feel as good as you made me feel, can I have it next time?"

"Oh?" Eddie pushed Richie's hair away from his forehead, the sweat on his brow causing it to stand straight in the air. "And how would you do that, baby?" 

"It's a surprise," Richie said, pressing one last kiss to the flat plane of Eddie's stomach. He sinks even lower down, his mouth hovering over where Eddie's cock was tenting his underwear obscenely. 

Tugging at Richie's hair in warning, Eddie said, "Be careful, baby, you have to earn it." 

Richie pouted up at Eddie. "I'm being good, I swear! I won't take it out, I promise. See?" Tucking his hands under Eddie's thighs, Richie settled on the couch between Eddie's legs. Eddie missed the warmth of him, missed every inch of himself being pressed in the reassuring weight of Richie's body, but he had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. 

"I can't believe you made fun of me for getting so wet for you when you looked like this," Richie said. Eddie's underwear was a mess, the white fabric gray with precum in places as his cock had dragged against the fabric. Now it drooled copiously as it strained against the cotton, pooling into the weave until it was clear. The outline stood out against the material anyway, the mushroom head of his cock clear, but now even the deep red colour could be seen as Eddie's dick twitched, smearing precum in its wake as it fought closer and closer to the elastic. 

"You were dripping for me within five minutes," Eddie grunted, trying not to show how much Richie's gaze alone was affecting him. "I've been waiting for you to get off your ass and show some goddamn initiative." 

Richie snorted. "Sorry, Sargeant Spaghetti, sir. I'll get right on that." 

Without another word, Richie pressed an open kiss to the head of Eddie's dick, the tip of his tongue licking at the stain. Eddie hissed at the sudden sensation, both hands scrambling to wrap themselves in Richie's hair, and he yanked Richie's mouth away from him. 

"What the fuck are you--" 

"I'm making you feel good," Richie said, pulling against Eddie's hold. "Please, I promise I won't take your underwear off. I swear, I just wanna make you feel good, Eddie." 

Eddie didn't know whether it was the use of his real name or the fact that he thought he would die if he didn't get to cum soon, but something in Richie's voice convinced him. His grip relaxed, letting Richie's head drift back down to bury itself back between Eddie's legs. 

Richie sucked at the head greedily, cotton and all, one big hand rubbing at the rest of Eddie's bulge. Already sloppy and wet, Eddie wasn't sure how Richie's mouth felt so good, or how the feeling of Richie's drool seeping through the fabric and coating Eddie's cock was a turn on, but with every sweet pulse of Richie's mouth, Eddie found himself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

He felt like he had been inching towards orgasm for hours instead of minutes, his muscles shaking with exhaustion as a bucked up against the solid arm Richie had across his hips, holding him down. It was a cruel revenge, Eddie thought, not letting him fuck Richie's face only because he'd denied Richie the same. He would have to remember this the next time Richie was begging for something on his tongue. 

Shifting for a new angle, Richie tilted his head for better access to Eddie, and flicked his tongue against the head of Eddie's cock. The drag of it, covered by the sodden fabric, was rough and on the uncomfortable side of pain, but as gone as he was it only forced Eddie higher. It felt so good to have the threads drag against his oversensitive cock, even when it felt like nails scratching down his back. 

And then Richie's curious tongue found Eddie's slit, the firm pressure dragging the fabric across it, and Eddie was spilling himself into the cotton and Richie's waiting mouth. 

Richie didn't let Eddie rest, not even waiting for the grunts to leave Eddie's throat before he was suckling at Eddie's cock again. If Eddie had thought his dick was oversensitive before, it had nothing on now, where even pleasure felt like pain. It still felt good, though, in the way that the intensity of it had the last pulses of his orgasm dragging out as he rolled his hips against Richie's tongue. 

By the time Eddie even realized why Richie was still so greedy, Richie had already sucked the majority of Eddie's cum into his mouth through the fabric, leaving only behind the stains. 

"Rich," Eddie said, pulling at Richie's hair. "Baby, stop." 

Richie pulled off with a gasp, shaking. He looked a little frantic, even more than he had when he had come, even more than Eddie himself felt-- Richie pressed his open mouth to Eddie's hip in some facsimile of a kiss. "Was I good?" he asked, voice small in that way that left Eddie unsettled. "Did I-- I don't--" He sounded confused by his own desperation, and Eddie's heart twisted in his chest, his hands immediately gentling. 

"Shh, Richie, baby. Come here," Eddie said. His hands slid out of Richie's hair, and he coaxed Richie to sit up until he could prop himself up on the arm of the couch and let Richie sprawl against his chest, mumurring reassurances all the while. "You were so good, sweetheart. I've never felt that good before in my life. I'm proud of you, honey, you were so good." 

Still and silent, Richie let Eddie press kisses across his face and shoulders, wrapping them both up in the soft throw that had taken up residence on the back of their couch. Eddie worried, but tried not to let it show, keeping his voice soft. It was a challenge, really-- Not the being close part, but the gentleness. They had never been those kind of friends, and Eddie hadn't imagined them as that kind of couple. 

As Richie relaxed into his embrace, though, Eddie thought he liked it more than the things he had imagined. He liked being able to be a man who could take care of his partner when they needed it. Not only get them off, but help them afterwards, too. Honestly, it had been one of the things he had been most terrified of, coming to LA with Richie-- That he would get here and as unable to care for Richie as he had Myra. But now, pressing a kiss to Richie's temple, Eddie felt like a good partner for the first time. 

He'd thought that the pride would flare to life once again, but all he felt was sheer relief at the thought that finally, someone would be able to care about Richie Tozier the way he deserved. 

After a few moments, Richie began to stir in Eddie's arms, his usual fidgety behavior making itself known in the way his fingers twitched in and out of their grasp on Eddie's t-shirt. 

"How are you feeling, honey?" Eddie asked, careful not to sound too worried. 

"Thirsty," Richie said, and he sounded it. His voice was hoarse and dry, and Eddie winced in sympathy. "And tired." Eddie frowned and held Richie a little tighter. Richie burrowed into Eddie's chest eagerly. "Still good, though." 

"Those don't… sound good," Eddie said. 

"Yeah," Richie said, an edge of a smile to his voice, at least. "It doesn't make any sense. It feels better with you then it usually does, though. Not as lonely, afterwards." 

Eddie was silent, considering. He carefully didn't think about the 'usually', the people who left Richie alone to deal with himself when he felt like this. "Does it… always happen?" 

Richie shook his head, curls tickling Eddie's chin. "Nah. Not even most of the time, you were --" Richie sighed. "You made me feel really fucking good, Eds. It's hard, sometimes, to come back to real life." 

That, at least, Eddie understood, although he doubted that was all there was to the story. He'd read about sub drop and the science behind it, but from what he'd understood, it hardly happened this soon after a 'scene'. Besides, he would hardly call what they'd just done particularly kinky. 

Well, okay, it was pretty kinky for Eddie, but he had thought Richie would be more… accustomed to that sort of thing. 

Whatever the reason was, Richie himself didn't seem to know, and Eddie wasn't about to push it. If this was anything like a sub drop at all, Eddie needed to be there for him. "Want me to go get you some water?" 

"In a minute," Richie answered, after a beat. "Can you hold me a little bit longer?" 

"Of course." Eddie tucked his chin over the top of Richie's head and settled in. "As long as you want." 

They fell asleep like that, quiet and curled together, as the morning sun began to peek through the curtains.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed!! i'm now at @nixcarraway on twitter. see you there :)


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